Entitled to Justice
by Pretenders
Summary: Adapting to human life is a dream for Blossom. Keeping her away from the horrors of human reality is a crucial attempt by the Professor. Completing destiny that was always meant to be is a responsibility brought upon a returning Brick. When these three find themselves in need of each other, only fate will reveal who accomplishes. Independent Plot. Summary changed October, 29.
1. Entitled to Justice

**_Thank-you for noticing this story._**

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**Entitled to Justice**

It had always been the contempt of evil that kept her focused on her good nature, pragmatic, and aesthetic concept of serving and providing justice to the common people. Townsville inhabited many of the citizens she grew up with, both those her age, younger, or older. Each of the smiles they held brought content feelings to her heart. Those were the reasons why she coddled her position in society. Despite the fact that her existence came forth was due to a chemical mistake, she still harbored the intelligence, sensations, and emotions of a teenager her age who came forth through a natural process. This is what began to spark ideas filled with uncertain decisions she once thought she would never question before; such as the question if being a superhero was what she'd enjoy doing her whole life, or if she'd enjoy being a normal teenager more. She'd never experienced a day without crime fighting, which split her knowledge of how good or bad being normal could be.

One look to the citizens her age, teenagers, walking to school or laughing with friends placed a crater as dark as a shadow within her mind. She had read in poems that the heart carried the true answers, yet she didn't know if that's what her heart wanted. Her heart hadn't known what comes with being a normal teenager. She hadn't known what parties were, or the struggles teenage girls go through. All she could do after crime fighting was fly to the Townsville Public Library, search up a book, and gather as much information she could. Through the many books she read, she discovered that she had gone through "puberty," the body's turning point of transitioning from a young girl into a young woman. Her chest area, waist, and figure in all changed with her coming years. She also discovered she had gone through the deep thought processing that all teenagers go through; the questioning she went through everyday was a part of this, and finding the answer, according to the book, would be by experiencing the actions that one with the experience goes through. It was from that entry that she decided to live a day as a normal teenager.

She knew very well that a day would not give her satisfaction to her curiosity, but it was give her a taste and feel that would be enough satisfaction. Looking in the mirror, she grabbed half of her fair, orange tinted hair into an up do while she let the rest hang out. The strands at the end curled upwards, naturally. She caressed her soft face with blush, and brushed her eyelashes up with mascara. Her lips remained bare, balancing her painted face with its natural color and polish. Her attire consisted of a pink, spring dress. She had read in popular magazines that dresses represented a young woman's personality as kind, out-going, and humorous. Her white sneakers represented her still reminiscent child side.

Her sister watched her from the dining room table as she flew down the stairs, ready to taste and feel a normal life for a day. She smiled as her green eyes sparkled with a knowing spark, "Are you going out for a walk, or is it a date?"

The eager girl gasped at the suggestion. Her elegant hairstyle bounced to the side along with her head movements. She laughed at her suggestive sister, "No, Buttercup! Don't tell Professor, but I'm going out to experience a normal life." She ended it with a whisper.

Her sister's smile faded, "Blossom, you know the Professor won't be happy about this. He says he wants us to stay away from that."

"I know, but haven't you ever wanted freedom like they have it? They can do whatever they want! They can be whoever they want to be!"

"Do you not want to be a Powerpuff?" She stirred her hot chocolate around with a spoon, looking away from Blossom.

Blossom sighed, also turning away. The deep thoughts returned to her, "I don't know what I want, Buttercup. But how can I ever truly know what I want if I don't know how it is to experience something different than what I already know?"

"The Professor keeps us away from a normal life for a reason, Blossom."

"I'm smart enough to not make any mistakes. Promise me you won't tell?"

Behind Blossom sat a photo of her and her three sisters, which was only visible to Buttercup. She sighed as she looked to Blossom, "I promise."

With a squeal of happiness, Blossom flew herself out the front door. She left without knowing the stress she placed upon Buttercup. Once she felt the air hit her face, she lowered herself from the air onto the ground. She knew flying was not a normal thing to do, so she would walk for the day. Her white sneakers made the walking from her house to the park comfortable, and for the first time, she felt as if she walked into a whole new world. There were children playing in the playground, old people sitting on the benches, and boys and girls her age hanging around the swing sets. She saw dogs being walked along the park pathway. The breeze from the day touched her face gently, enough to make her close her eyes to embrace the new sights and feelings. The short experience made her feel this was where she was supposed to be all along. In a normal world, living a normal life.

She found a lonely bench and sat upon it, taking the time to take in everything she felt. There was nothing negative to say or feel. It was a feeling she was sure she could listen to. The thoughts that came into her mind in this new identity confirmed all her wants. They abolished all her questions. This new identity was one she could cherish everyday, and never question. She felt instauration through the day, a sense of finally knowing who she truly was.

Buttercup lounged on the couch, waiting for Blossom to return from her normal day. It had passed eight o'clock and she began to worry about her. Just when she got up to grab her sweater to fly out, Blossom walked into the room with a wide grin. Buttercup slowly began to place her sweater back on the hanger.

"Where have you been? I thought you would be back before noon."

Blossom gave out an elegant sigh, "I went everywhere! You won't believe how wonderful it is to be..."

"No, Blossom. You said you only wanted a feel for it..."

"But I don't know if this, what I am now, is what I'll always want to be!" She turned to face Buttercup, who closed the closet door.

"Have you met any boys?"

"What?" Blossom now got up from the couch.

"Boys—have you met any?"

Blossom stared intently at Buttercup, "No, I didn't meet any boys. I didn't talk to anyone."

Buttercup frowned, "I kept your promise. But the Professor expects us to stay in the home tomorrow just in case of any emergency calls from the mayor."

"Thank-you, Buttercup," she lowered her head, "I will stay here."

That night, Blossom stared up at her ceiling, silently feeling herself tear a part. Her questioning returned to her. She tossed and turned, wondering who she wanted to be most. All she ever knew was a life of crime fighting, yet she just introduced herself to a whole new side of the world she had been missing out on. Tears now surfaced, and before she knew it, she had flown to her window to open it. She flew out into the night, letting the wet air impact her crying face. When she realized she was using her abnormal powers, she quickly descended herself from the air. She didnt care where she landed, even if it meant the dark, lonesome suburbs.

Her feet ran across the ground once she landed and lead her into what seemed to be an abandoned shelter. Making her way inside, she collapsed to her knees upon the sectile wood. It had been moist from earlier rain fall. The trees that surrounded the shelter looked limp and almost eerie. The wet air she felt when she flew gave signs of another rainy night where she wept. Blossom waited until the rain began to vent out her anger, confusion, and stress.

"Why do I have to have him decide what my future is? Why can't I have a choice for myself?" She shouted willingly, sobbing along with the sound of rain. "I don't want to be a Powerpuff if I can't be normal, too..."

"You don't want to be a Powderpuff?"

Blossom gasped as she turned to look at the figure behind her. The familiarity of the voice sparked vague memories of her childhood. It almost seemed to be masked with a new form of masculinity. She immediately remembered her knowledge from the puberty books she read. When she realized his silhouette outlined a tilted, backwards ball cap as he turned to his side to drop down his belongings, she jumped onto her feet.

"I can make that happen. I've always wanted to."

She hadn't come this close to her undefeated enemy since his return as a kid. All she knew was the strength, equality, and intelligence that they both shared meant both had the upper hand in any battle, leaving them to defeat each other only through death.

"You aren't supposed to be this far from Townsville."

"Where I'm supposed to be is none of your business."

"But you're where I'm supposed to be, away from Townsville because I'm a failure and ashamed. But you, Powderpuff, you're praised and proud."

Blossom bumped into the wall of the shelter as she backed away from his approaching figure, "I am not proud." She attempted to mask her slight arising fear while she thought of a way to pass him.

"Not proud? I bet your life you're more proud than I'll ever know." His lower body now came into the moonlight, as the shadows of rain came down from behind the window fasted upon his jeans. Blossom then saw the moonlight rise upon his body as he came closer toward her.

His clear skin upon his face, his broad chin, and his red hair branded its image into her mind. But it was the intensity of his red orbs that gave Blossom a sense of desperation and yearning. Was a feeling like this normal?

"You're proud, and I know you are. You gave Him the decision to ban me here, because of my defeat against you." His teeth gritted together as he spoke. Then, he flew with full speed toward her without warning. Blossom shouted and dodged by falling to the ground. "You should stay where you belong!"

"Stop this!" Blossom dodged his next oncoming attack. She knew she had a chance to lay a blow to him when he stumbled toward the wall, yet she didn't know if she would do it willingly. Throughout her childhood years after realizing her first kiss was given to an enemy, and her first dream as a teenager included that same enemy, she hadn't known what feelings she wanted to listen to. The logical feelings of her mind, or the scared feelings from her heart. Was the feeling of normality all she didn't know? Or was there more to discover than just experiencing the sights and feelings?

"You don't know what it feels like to want freedom from a place you don't want to be!" He jumped to her, as she ran to the other end of the shelter. The missed opportunity made him fall to the ground, and she breathed harshly as he struggled to get himself up. When he stood up, he lunged forward, gripping her figure into his hold. Blossom frantically tried to separate his arms around her to release herself, but his biological traits gave him the advantage. The feelings of desperation and yearning returned. The warmth, the warmth of rage within his arms gave her undecided fear. Had she truly wanted to be let go?

"I know what that feels like," she began to sob in his arms, as he held her tighter, the pressure now impacting her ribs, "I'm going through that. That's why I'm here." She began to cough, feeling her eyes shut tightly, "Brick!"

Suddenly, he separated his arms, and fell beside her upon his back. He inhaled with unequal might, as Blossom fell upon her side to look to his weakened figure. The pain that spurred around her chest area held her back from getting up. She noticed from the limited light from the moon that his sweater held a dark, shaded area on his side. With the strength she had left, she placed her hand upon the shaded area. The instant her palm came into contact with the drenched fabric, she knew very well what may have happened. His struggle to get back up from the ground when he leaped forward was due to one of the sectile woods stabbing into his side. He must have ripped it out with vigor, and the energy he wasted attempting to suffocate her made him weaker until he had no choice but to release her due to the sting from his side.

"Brick," she couldn't speak, for the pain in her ribs rang through her when she tried. Watching him lay upon his back, wincing at the injury made her feel the need to do something. But he was a criminal, an enemy who had nearly killed her. Ignoring the pain, she lifted herself onto her knees. She knew he might have fractured some of her ribs, yet she crawled to his side, where she looked down at him.

Those feelings of desperation and yearning now came full force to her. Her mind, whispering to her to retrieve help for herself and declare victory argued with her heart. Her heart, one that had just been fractured, argued that she knew what was right. It had always been the contempt of evil that kept her focused on her good nature, pragmatic, and aesthetic concept of serving and providing justice to the common people, even the ones who once posed a threat. She knew he suffered just as she did, and his actions were cynical, but she couldn't leave him to die. Her good nature wouldn't let her. Was it normal to feel this way for someone who never cared? She didn't know the answer to her question, but she did know what she'd do.

She reached for his hand. Once her hand landed upon his, he gripped it into his own. She then knew he, too, felt the desperation and yearning. Saving him was something she didn't need to question, and she knew who she was by doing so. She'd save him, even if it meant flying to seek help.

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**_Thank-you! This chapter is inspired by, "Who You Are" by Jessie J._**

**_Have a nice day!_**


	2. Entitled to Crime

**_Thank-you for continuing with this story._**

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**Entitled to Crime**

Loneliness came with force throughout his body and mind. The pressure it brought stung his side. It was a blur of events that rushed through his memory; they were all hazy without any clear perception of why he felt such injury. Where he lay felt chilled, wet, and uncomfortable. He knew he couldn't speak; his voice was hoarse from the events that happened earlier, which lead to his only company to fly off. Her hand slipped out of his own, and he only heard the sound of her boost before she flew out his door. He loathed the fact that she returned to him after she left him with shame. The same shame that brought upon years of hatred, suffering, and depression. He was alone for years, until this night, when he returned to find her crying.

Her reason to cry wouldn't compare to the reasons he had for the countless tears he shed. At this thought, the pain surfaced from both his horrid memories and his injury. He lost track of a normal breathing rate as he struggled to grip his side to stop the pain. The background of rain still surrounded his home, causing him to feel overwhelmed with terrible emotions. As a boy, he only knew how to cause suffer. As a teenager, he never knew how to escape suffering. The ironic life he grew to know made him depressed from all his mistakes, each one leading to weakness. But, he wasn't at fault. He knew well that she brought upon all his suffering. He no longer knew his anterior self as a child. That ego disappeared along with his dignity. All this captured him when he couldn't handle the harsh reality of being a failure.

A failure in defeating the Powerpuff Girls. The hate he possessed for the girls was all the wisdom he knew in a life of evil. That's all he ever was—evil. And the Powerpuff Girls were good—good girls who defeated evil. Yet, his creator had large hopes that he and his brothers would turn the reality around. It was a big feat, but he knew he could manage to make his creator proud, as well as become the greatest figure of evil ever known to Townsville. Mojo Jojo, his father and creator, engraved his mission into his mind, and he never forgot it. Even as he lay in agony on top of wet wood, he could remember perfectly what his mission was. He was given life to end the lives of the Powerpuff Girls, along with the assistance of his brothers.

Tears now proved themselves inevitable at the memory of his brothers, as they scratched his cheeks. He shut his eyes tightly, no longer wanting to recall the events of a history that lead to failure. Despite being given a second chance by the demon who revived him, he once again proved to be nothing but a failure. Not even evil could rise him high enough to defeat his greatest enemies. At the end of his second attempt, he was banned to the outskirts of Townsville. The demon warned him that a life of evil brought forth an eternity of suffering after death, and if he were to ever return or step foot onto the boundaries of Townsville, death would be the first to meet him. This warning set the start of all his mistakes that would haunt him every time the moon arose.

His brothers—Boomer and Butch—all experienced the consequences of his outbursts and rage, until one day, there was no more rage to release. They didn't have the strength he had to continue on forward, hoping that one day, evil would defeat the good and call forth upon the three brothers. No, they didn't believe in that reality after years of solitude. They had each other, yet they only focused on the fear and loneliness they believed surrounded them. Then, as a storm neared, they realized their incapability to continue on in the outskirts of Townsville. They were determined to redeem themselves through force, and kill the Powerpuff Girls. However, they hadn't told their eldest brother before they left, and he came back to their home to wait for their arrival. They never returned, and he never saw them for the remainder of the day. He could only hope that he'd see his brothers, but after three years, he realized he'd never see them, again.

"Death,"

He could sense the somber, malicious tone of the demon as if he was before him, repeating his every word.

"Will be the only form you'll witness in Townsville upon your return."

For three years, the loneliness ate his sanity. He felt his mind becoming his worst enemy, and his dreams soon became nightmares. He dreamt of murder, only to awake without truly knowing if it was merely a dream, or if he committed such crimes. It was, since the beginning, his destiny to commit crimes filled with evil. Murder was what he was born to commit. He was born to live the life of a criminal. His duty was to end the reign of the Powerpuff Girls, and relish in their impossible deaths and his magnificent achievement. Yet, after isolation, pain, loathe, and despair, his grim destiny soon left him. Its absence left him to fight to battle his reason for life, and the want to escape its harsh reality. Was her return the fate of a life of evil the demon warned him of? Was she his death?

"Brick!"

Did he need to kill her to accomplish what he and his brothers were born to do?

"Blossom, how could you?"

"We need to help him, Buttercup! Please!"

All he knew in this moment was she would bring death to him, in some form. She would somehow carry out his fate, since he failed to carry out her own.

"He's our enemy."

His desperate want to escape this suffering caused by failure wouldn't last long. He didn't need to return to Townsville to escape it. His one open door to escaping this agony was to proceed with his destiny. All he needed to do was let her save him, and his strength would find him once again.

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**_Have a nice day! This chapter is inspired by, "Still Loving You" by Scorpions._**

**_This was intended to be a one-shot, but I have realized that I failed to make a good, one chapter story, so I will continue on._**


	3. Falling to the Enemy

**_Thank-you for continuing with this story._**

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**Falling to the Enemy**

Eyes met closed eyes, staring into what would be red orbs if they lay open. He had been here for three days, and during those three days, Blossom felt the bonds with her family ripping a part. Buttercup, her tough, feisty sister kept to her personality by rejecting attempts of communication with Blossom. The only time she willingly talked to her was when she had to follow orders from Blossom during their duty of protecting Townsville. And Bubbles, her cute, sensitive sister who she believed would understand most dismissed her involvement in assisting their hospitalized enemy, as well as with Blossom. Then her father, the Professor, spoke little to her about their present situation, yet he tried his best to let her understand the fear her sisters hold. Blossom knew they must be horrified that she resorted to helping their enemy, but that didn't mean she was now the enemy, and their refusal to help her made her sense that they thought just that. She was the kind, wise sister of the group who took on the role of the leader, and for her kindness, a trait she couldn't ignore when making decisions, led her to do what was right for the young man who lay with a severe injury to his side.

Was that their definition of betrayal? He had not committed any crimes for almost ten years, leaving their troubles simple to defeat. Blossom knew what to prepare for if anything turned the opposite direction and brought forth threat. She took up the time to go through intensive training, defeating monsters with greater abilities than her in less than two minutes. She knew what kind of powers she held, and that they would definitely be used for the good. However, she hadn't known just how strong his powers had grown to be. All the evidence she had was his based on his attacks in the shelter. He had proved to be strong when he almost crushed her, but he also proved to be weak when he succumbed to his injury. Before, he would bounce back to his feet with fury after being thrown into buildings made of bricks.

Blossom looked down to the bandages the Professor placed on him. They held faint blood stains that made her frown. What had caused him to be so weak? He once threw her to the cement and caused a large hole in the center of the street. Then, she remembered the end of his first life. Had she made him weak? She wondered if she suppressed his strength with a simple kiss, leaving him to return with less strength when Him brought him back. Everything that lead him to living in that shelter was nothing Blossom knew of. She hadn't seen him for ten years, and she always believed he was dead. After two years, she gave up on seeing him again, and after five years, she assumed he met his demise by Him. Her kisses hadn't made him weak, they proved to make him stronger when he returned. That's how she last knew of him—a strong boy through her kisses.

Yet, he was visibly weak, laying before her to recover from his wounds. This state wasn't the Rowdyruff leader she almost claimed defeat to. This wasn't the power she once fell to. This was someone she didn't know of. There was something she missed, something great that happened to him to give him such weakness. She knew she wasn't the cause, but she felt herself dying to know what or who was.

"You've been in here for quite a while, Blossom." The Professor walked in, grabbing the clip board beside Blossom to check up on his patient.

She looked back up to his closed eyes, "I know. I'm confused."

"What are you confused about?"

"Why is he so weak? I've never seen him bleed, before." She finally walked away from his bed side, giving the Professor room to check on his recovery.

"He might be a creation like you, pumpkin, but he is still just a teenage boy. He still has human structure."

"So, how come I haven't bled?"

"You did, once." He looked to her, then looked back to his patient, "And he was the cause of it."

"I don't remember."

He wrote notes down on the clip board, then placed it back on the table, "I wish I didn't." He began to walk out, when Blossom reached for the sleeve of his white coat.

"Father, wait," she looked away from him, "Does that mean he isn't weak?"

"He's weak Blossom, weaker than you. His Chemical X is fading away, and it seems as if he's becoming human, and he may experience what all humans go throw. The little but of Chemical X he has in him can be demolished for good with one simple attack he is most vulnerable to." He sighed, "He's very weak."

"What do humans go through?"

He rubbed his chin, pressing his lips together as they thinned from their touch. He shook his head, "Humans go through death, Blossom. And you don't have to worry about that, because you're not human." With that, he tore himself away from her loose grip, shutting the door behind him.

She stood in awe. Her eyes suddenly began to tear up, and they fell once she looked to the boy on the bed. His sleeping figure suddenly seemed to resemble those of the deceased, and she ran to his side. He was just like her, and now, he was loosing their resemblance in power. Soon, just as the Professor said, he would be subject to death. That was the normal course of being human. She cried, not knowing how to continue on with this. The human life seemed so welcoming. All she saw, all she felt, it was nothing as intense as what she felt now. Death never entered her thoughts, and now, it scared her. She feared for her enemy's safety, and she knew she finally betrayed her sisters by doing so. Keeping the enemy safe was against her duty. She was abdicating her role in this lifetime. It was against all her sanity to resort to truly wanting the enemy safe. All she wanted was to help him recover. Now, she wanted something more. She wanted to be able to help him recover fully, to the extent were he would be the same boy she once knew. Including the harsh remarks and attacks, she didn't care. She didn't want to be normal, not if it meant dying in the end. She didn't want him to be normal if it meant never seeing him, again.

She felt herself banishing those blissful feelings she thought were all there was to a life of normality; to a life of being human. No, there was more. There was loss, death, and confusion. She knew then that he was weak because of it. He lived through a normal life for the ten years she hadn't seen or heard of him. And his brothers, she suddenly remembered, may have already been looking for him. She didn't know their whereabouts, but she knew they'd find him safe. This was what she was born to do: keep safety to her town and to her people. Her greatest enemy, now possibly her weakest, was the only enemy she would give her all to help.

She wanted her life back. Her abnormal life. And that included him, her first equivalent, her first defeat—her first kiss—she wanted all of that back. She would help him gain his strength back.

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**_Have a nice day! This story chapter is inspired by, "Turning Tables" by Adele._**


	4. Falling for Destiny Part l

**_Thank-you for continuing with this story, I apologize for the hold-up._**

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**Falling for Destiny Part 1**

Sunlight, surreal and warm, touched his skin. For the first time, his nerves sparked as the heat seeped through the open blinds onto his body. From the waist down, he was covered in a pink blanket, and from the side of his torso, he was bandaged with gauge. His eyes remained closed as he moved his fingers for the first time. He bent them inward, forming fists, then rose his arms above his head. Finally being able to stretch made his stiffened muscles contract, then relax. Then, slowly, he began to open his eyes to meet the sunlight. The sudden impact of brightness caused him to blind himself using his hand. He looked away from the window, turning his head to rest upon his other cheek. There, beside his bed, was a clip board. Out of curiosity, he reached for it.

The scribbles on there were hard for him to read, the penmanship that of cursive. He was never taught how to read, he had never attended school; he knew how to speak well, and could recognize the word if he tried his best to say it to himself. The notes scribbled to the side were faint, letting him know whoever wrote this may have been in a hurry, or possibly stressed. The paper held different states, each next to a box that contained check marks. Only the last two boxes missed check marks, but the four before each had one. They also held small notes, most likely explaining the progress. He felt his head aching, yet continued to attempt to reveal the words written on the paper. The words became clearer then before, and he could sound out the words quietly to himself.

"Trans... Trans, a..." he began to struggle.

The door opened, "You're awake."

The clip board landed upon the tile floor. The professor walked over to the fallen clipboard, reaching down to pick it up. His white lab coat lay unbutton, along with his hair slicked back as Brick remembered it. He watched the creator, and enemy of Mojo Jojo, of the Powerpuff Girls walk over to a counter against the wall. He opened a drawer to take out a syringe. Brick saw the large, thin piece of metal at the end of the syringe. When the Professor failed to retrieve any medication into the syringe, Brick began to worry slightly. He walked over to his bedside, placed the syringe on the table, then leaned over Brick to fastened safety restraints that buckled around Brick's wrists.

"Hey!"

"Even if you try, you won't have enough strength to successfully hurt me, or fly away. Your ankles are buckled, too." Once he made sure the restraints were tight, he reached for the syringe. Carefully, he attached the syringe to a tube, then proceeded to aim for Brick's veins just above his elbow.

"What are you doing!" Brick winced as the syringe entered his veins, drawing out liquid and collecting it into the tube attached.

"I know what you and your brothers are capable of doing to my daughters. I told her to stay away from you, but instead, she insists I aid you to recovery." He looked to Brick, "This is the only way I can make sure she's safe. By draining you of your Chemical X, and replacing it with normal DNA, it will be impossible for you to cause her any harm. You should thank me; you were almost dying from your lack of nutrition."

"You're... You bastard. I don't need Chemical X to show you what I'm made of."

"But that's just what you're made of, Chemical X. Without it, what is there to show?"

Brick glared at the Professor as he removed the syringe. With a clean one, he injected normal DNA into Brick, increasing his transition from super human, to normal human. Although he felt terrible for lying to his daughters, he knew this was the only way to keep her from the outside world. If she knew that she was never in danger of losing her Chemical X by adapting to normal life, she may rebel against him, and do just that. With Brick now conscious, the Professor knew he must finish his new invention rapidly, or the truth may surface through her one enemy.

"You will go through extensive injections of DNA over the course of two weeks, and during those two weeks, you will not have any communication with anyone besides myself. No one will seek you out, so there is literally no one besides me."

Brick chuckled, his sweat falling along the lines of his forehead, "I will find a way to gain my power, and when I do, you'll see just what I can do to cause you pain, just as you did to me."

"Your threats don't shudder me. Neither do you." The Professor walked out of the room, closing the door to Brick's laugh.

Brick grunted, trying to rip the restraints from the bed's posts. His attempts failed, and he felt himself become weaker with each pull. His heart rate in increased. He felt his sweat layer above his forehead, something he never did. He rarely sweated, and when he did, it was never more than a mere damp shirt. Yet the amount of sweat he produced by attempting a weak pull, made him fear for the worst. Having Blossom bring him to safety may not have been his best choice. However, he knew the strength he carried was either equal to, or greater than Blossom. He liked to believe it was greater, and with that thought, he began to wonder just how similar the two of the really are. If he could manipulate Blossom so easily, just as he did by taking refuge in her home, he was sure he could use her for something more. There would have to be changes to his original plans, but first, he needed to meet the first step: talk to Blossom.

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**_Thank-you. This chapter was written while listening to, "Moment 4 Life—Instrumental" by Nicki Minaj._**

**_Have a nice day!_**


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